Psy
by Wafflenaw
Summary: Who would have thought that such a broken girl who once claimed the streets as her home, being force to steal and beg just to survive, would come out a raging success? With her abusive background and a broken family, you would've never expected her to adjust so quickly to her new life of fame and fortune. Though I tend to forget, she does have a way of fooling people... YakkoxOc
1. Introduction

Everyone who knows Psy will tell you the same thing about her. She's kind, independent, family orientated and she doesn't take lightly to people who boss her around.

However, the small amount of people who actually know her well will tell you a different story. Sure, she seems as if she could be all those things mentioned earlier: she has a way of fooling people. Hell, she even got me in the beginning and I am known for fooling and not being fooled. Perhaps that's how she excels so much in acting and performing without any professional training. She's been acting for so long now after all...

Perhaps I should start from the beginning: I don't know much about her. I've only put together a few bits and pieces from her nights of sobbing and screaming, as I was forced to comfort her. Not that I didn't want to, but it gets tiresome to see people you care about slowly die on the inside while you feel unable to help them... Sorry, I'm getting side tracked again: let's begin with Psy Warner's story.

She grew up in a family of five: her mother Linda, her father whose name she can't remember, her little sister Mieke and her older brother who she refuses to talk about. Let's begin with her father:

Lying, drunk, abusive, well that's what I picked up at least. I remember one night out of many, she was sobbing into my chest, cursing her father and stuttering stories that made my hair rise and my blood curdle. Stories of how he'd beat her brother, verbally abused her and her sister and pushing their mother around, calling her useless and a complete waste of space. Strangely enough, however, the constant rebuke and revile from her father seemed to matter less to her than what her mother had done.

I know very little about Linda Warner. From books and newspaper articles I know that she used to work for a studio that was supposedly a rip-off of the ever famous Warner Brother's studio. That at least explains why Psy's last name is Warner too. From the pictures in the articles and the photo Psy keeps not-so-hidden underneath her pillow, I learned that her mother was very beautiful. She was also an amazing actress and an even better singer – which accounts for where Psy gets her talent from. Unfortunately Linda Warner was forced to retire somewhere close to the late 80's when the studio she worked for became bankrupt and had to be closed down.

But that's a story for another day.

Before I digress any further, let's get back to what's important here: the relationship between Psy and Linda Warner.

Unlike her father, her mother was loving, generous and would go out of her way to protect her children.

Just not from their father. I'm not sure why her mother decided to put up with that man. Psy told me it's a question she asks herself almost every day. It sounded almost like she was afraid of him, yet worshipped the very ground he walked upon. Whatever the reason was, her mother must have felt it's the only key to her happiness because the day that man left...

Psy told me that from all that had happened in her childhood she remembered the day their father walked out on them the clearest. From what I picked up through the screaming and the shaking, it was also her most painful memory.

Not the part where their father had called them all useless and claimed they had ruined his chance of success while proceeding to walk out the door and slam it shut. Oh no. What caught her was her mother's cold stare as she whispered: "Thanks a lot, you three just broke this family..."

That's probably the biggest reason for Psy's fragility associated with things concerning her past: she's been living with the guilt her mother managed to dump on her so many years ago. I've tried to convince her multiple of times that it wasn't her fault. I'd wipe away her tears and grab her by her shoulders, trying to set her straight, but she'd just shake her head violently and throw my hands off, getting ticked off at me for not agreeing.

Funny, even at her lowest point she's stubborn, a trait we seem to share.

After the fiasco with her father, her mother went downhill and all her love for her children seemed to have disappeared. From what Psy managed to stutter out between sobs, her mother didn't bother with food or keeping the house clean like she used to do. She became an alcoholic and wasted all their money on drinking and gambling. Defunct as a mother and caretaker, Psy's brother was forced to steal and beg just to keep her and her sister alive.

She'd grab me by the arms and throw all her weight on me, repeating the same question "How can somebody go from loving the one moment to hating the next?"

Her bloodshot eyes would stare into my concerned ones, desperate for an answer. It was as if the question was eating her up alive.

It had the same effect on me: I wanted to answer her just as desperately, but I couldn't.

She lived in a broken home for two years, until one day...

This was the hardest to get out of her: she'd always begin with the story then she'd stop as tears filled her eyes and she proceeded to shove her face in my already soaked chest for the hundredth time. With a lot of patience and time I managed to get some of the story with very little detail. I felt bad about fishing all those painful memories out of her, but I wanted to help and I can't help if I don't know the story.

With what little information I could find, I started to understand why she was so broken. If what happened to her ever had to happen to me, I'd be torn to bits.

Apparently her mother was having another one of her rage attacks she seemed to pick up somewhere over that long two years. She was throwing dirty dishes on the ground and throwing chairs over in a drunken state. Sometimes she'd grab a knife and just stab everything in her path.

And poor little Psy wasn't careful enough...

I remembered how my fur bristled from anger and disgust as Psy managed to pull her top over her head, disregarding the fact that she was sitting half naked in front of me, though at that moment, it didn't matter to her. She took my hand and trailed my finger down a rugged line from underneath her chest to her bellybutton, forcing me to feel the scared remains of her mother's last memory.

It was easy enough to put the pieces together.

She said that all she could remember after that was her mother's remorseful face and darkness taking over. She woke up in a hospital bed with a strange woman hovering over her, telling her that she's in a different home and that she'll never have to suffer again.

She refuses to go further than that. At that point she'll either cry herself into a seemingly ineluctable fit of tears and dejection, or she'll wipe her eyes and stand up, whispering a demure thank you as she walks out, suddenly abashed to be in such a state.

You never know with that girl.

This leaves me with a lot of new questions flying around my mind. What happened to her mother? Why does she hate her brother so much? And if she was in a new home then why did I find her and her sister in a state of atrophy in the street with nothing but the clothes on their backs? Her bones sticking out through her torn shirt and the despairing look she gave me when our eyes first met.

I'm afraid that will have to remain a mystery till the next emotional encounter, or at least till she's strong enough to go further.

Yes, Psy Warner does show herself as happy, kind and independent.

But deep down, lies a broken little girl...

**_First of all, don't laugh at my crappy story writing skills, I'm an artist not fucking Shakespear ._****__**

Second, it's in Yakko's pov

and thrid XD I just wanted to write a short description of Psy just to let you guys know what her life story is and it turned in to a 3 page story . So I decided to take advantage of it (Seeing as I've already worked out her entire life from when she was born to her meeting the Warner trio) and I might turn it in to a full story ^^

Even though I hate to admit it, it's mainly going to be about Psy and Yakko (him being the lover boy he is) But I'm gonna work in all the other animaniacs characters (Especialy Slappy, holly chapsticks how I love that nutty old hag XD)

**_I promise the next chapter won't be as depressing as this one, this is just something random I made and it inspired me to make a story out of it._**

**_Oh and I'll be leaving links in my profile so that all you curious little critters can see what Psy looks like ^-^ (Well the very few who'd actually bother reading this fic)_**

**_So enjoy ^^ And try not to be too harsh on me ._**


	2. Chapter 1

_'Give yourself entirely to those around you. Be generous with your blessings. A kind gesture can reach a world that only compassion can heal.'_

_Funny, I never really did understand the significance of that quote until I actually got the opportunity to prove its theory correct. It's amazing how a little TLC and some compassion can heal a wound so deep that it leaves its victim scared and vulnerable._

_I should thank Psy sometime for helping me realize that. She's been through so much. I would have never imagined myself playing the role of a hero in someone's life. Well I guess the real hero here would be Psy herself, being able to go through life without shedding a single tear._

_Though when you force too much air into a balloon it's bound to burst._

_Perhaps I should get on with the story before I give too much away. Let's start off by introducing our protagonist: Psy Warner _

_Warner...wow, what a coincidence. The one person who looks just like me, acts just like me and thinks just like me even shares the same last name. Must be fates way of saying she and her sister were part of the family all along._

_Psy's a lot... diverse than most of the girls I see walking around the lot. The girls you see gallivanting through the studio are very . . . how do I put this nicely? Faux and conservative? Even though the little bows attached to their push-up bras, their lower cut tank tops that obviously show off their stomachs, and how they're skirts that rest on the lower part of their flanks are fairly amusing, they're unoriginal personalities just aren't enough for an interesting conversation._

_No, Psy's a lot more realistic, petty concerns like fashion and status just doesn't, well, concern her._

_She's just . . . ordinary._

_Well perhaps ordinary isn't the best term to use. She's simple, but complicated. Easy going, but also very stubborn. Completely predictable, yet spontaneous._

_I have been told multiple of times by either fairly amused faces or annoyed scowls that we share just about the same amount of stubbornness. Well if that's the case then I apologies to my dear siblings Wakko and Dot for being forced to put up with me for all these years._

_Damn, I had to pull this girl off of a grown man three times her own size with the fear somebody might walk out with a bloody nose and a broken ego._

_Poor guy had no idea what he was getting himself into. _

_A lot of people would ask me where our relationship stood, pushing the subject matter of 'dating' as far as they possibly could. This always annoyed me to no end. People questioning and judging us, always sticking their noses in where they shouldn't, but just as much as it did bug me, I can understand the misunderstanding._

_Now, how do I explain this so people can understand better . . . well I consider us to be very close friends, though we tend to do things friends won't typically do. Nothing physical, oh no perish the thought! Psy would have my head if I tried anything like that. But we do share a bond most people wished they had; I consider it more of a family thing. Twin sister and crap like that._

_We actually have discussed the matter of dating, brought up by either one of us or both. We would talk about the pros and cons and where we might end up one day. She made it very clear that even though we share an out of the ordinary relationship, she could never imagine us as an item. She also stated that the only reason why she would ever find the need for a boyfriend would be for the sake of compassion and comfort and that I fill that role quite well with the relationship we share now, so she sees no point in going any further. She would then burst out into a fit of giggles, calling me her manwhore of a brother and throwing her arms around me, making me the victim of another one of her 'affection attacks' as Mieke likes to call it. Not much of a torture if you ask me._

_Another attribute of Psy no one would be able to take away from her . . . _

_. . . her compassion._

_She's extremely compassionate towards the people who she's willing to break her barrier for. Mieke tells me she's always been like that, but the poor girl was the only thing her dear sister Psy could grab, embracing her little sister in a tight hug._

_I've always believed in this theory that it was her own way of comfort, being able to grab somebody and silently get rid of all her emotional stress. I've actually asked her and despite the fact that she actually told me being able to feel and embrace someone did relieve her of her frustration, that wasn't the case. According to her it's just her enjoying the company of family and friends, nothing to do with her being emotional. In the beginning I didn't believe her, but now I think she does it just to fool around with people. She's had her encounters with me, Mieke, my sibs. Hell she even grabbed Slappy at one point. Smothering the old hag with a tight squeeze as the grey squirrel tried to awkwardly return it, ear twitching out of exasperation towards her nephew's stifled giggles._

_For someone who's somewhat of an introvert, she sure does enjoy messing with people, having a mischievous alter ego finding its way past her more compassionate side. Plotz told me it's a common trait found in a vagrant, looking for trouble around every corner, stealing and vandalizing whenever they get the chance. Everything that goes wrong on the lot is immediately considered Psy's fault. Poor girl's been called by ol' Plotzy at least once a week, every time over some new issue._

_So who can blame her for having a spot of fun with the grouchy old bastard? Whether she's done something or not she was going to get blamed for it anyway. _

_I'm just glad for her part that Mr. Spielberg had grown rather fond of her and ignored the man's drivel like he normally does. _

_But enough of that, not going to drabble on too long about it, you'll be hearing a lot about that further on, trust me. But for now you're all probably very eager to hear about Psy's story, so let us begin..._

It was a bright Tuesday morning, the sound of chirping birds along with the constant chitchat of people and toons scattered throughout the streets of Burbank California. The sun was beating down harshly, making it impossible to walk a few feet without collapsing from the scorching hot sun.

Yes, just a typical day in Burbank.

And where was I?

Out between the loud people and the unforgiving sun along with the constant loud car horns coming from the long string of cars and their passengers, yelling words I'm pretty sure a kid my age isn't even supposed to know the existence of.

Shoe shopping.

An aggravated gripe escaped my lips as I tried my very best to wipe away the beads of sweat soaking the fur on my forehead, but to no avail. I held the piece of paper inches from my face, eyes scanning through the worked out route over and over trying to make better sense of it all.

It was two weeks before Dot's sixth birthday and she's been going on and on about a new pair of bright pink pumps.

I scratched the back of my head. I wasn't even sure what that meant! I tried seeking guidance from Slappy, she being the easiest female to talk to, asking her what they were. She said it was a pair of shoes, and then proceeded to scratch at the back of her head, mumbling out loud what a five year old wanted to do with a pair of pumps. Well at least now that I knew it was some sort of shoe it'd be easier to find, right?

Dead wrong.

Burbank had so many different shoe shops, one for each type according to the grey squirrel. I thought having her by my side would make things a little easier, but when I asked her she just started laughing in a rather crude manner and spat "Are you nuts? I'm not going out there! What do you think I am? Stupid?" She then patted me lightly on the back while uttering the words "Good luck kid." before shuffling off with Skippy hopping after.

So I guess I'm on my own. Wakko would be of no use and asking Dot would completely defeat the purpose. I felt my ear starting to twitch and that usually meant I was fed up, but alas me being the responsible older brother I am, I'll just have to suck it up and take it like a man. March right into the next shoe shop and demand a pair of bright pink pumps and not dare to leave until I get what I want.

Yes, because that's going to play off perfectly.

I made my way down the sidewalk, dogging all of the people forcing their way past me. They're loud chatter growing louder with every person I past. I held the piece of paper even closer to my eyes, my finger trailing down the red lines neatly done by a marker while looking up every now and then just to make sure I hadn't wandered off.

Well, at least the old hag's little nephew was kind enough to slip me this conveniently small map marking all of the possible stores who might have a pair of those bright pink pumps I so eagerly want to buy. He gave me a small, but obvious, wink along with a toothy grin before scurrying off, leaving me with a rather questionable facial expression. Why the little critter had it I have no idea, but it did prove itself helpful. I swear if he didn't take a different girl into his trailer every day I'd swear he was gay.

I studied the small page further, carefully working out my next route. I tilted the page a little, concentrating and making sure to scan every corner. Between my thinking and the loud twittering of the people crowding the streets, I raised my ear a little; picking up on people's conversations.

"Did you hear about the two orphans hiding out on the streets?"

My ear rose higher and my eyes quickly turned from the messy scribbles on the page to two old ladies walking beside me, dressed like they were on their way to meet the Queen of England.

"Oh my, yes. I heard they went and killed the only woman who was kind enough to take them there children in. They gone and murdered her, took everything she had and made a run for it! Police found the poor old lass dead in her own living room with a pillow covering her face."

"That's right; I bet you those hooligans used that pillow to smother her to death."

"And to think those dangerous delinquents are running loose right now as we speak on our own streets. Been stealing and vandalizing everywhere they go."

"I hope they catch those little brats soon, no street rat deserves to have that much freedom."

I pulled the page away from my face and rolled my eyes. Ugh, not this again. About a month or so the news of the two orphaned girls who were trying to hide from the police made its way to the front page of Burbank's local news: _The Burbank Leader_. The story's been spreading around the local news as well. By now everybody who's anybody knows about these kids. Apparently they were adopted by a very cultured fox toon and had been living with her for at least five weeks before the incident struck. People blame them for the kind toon's death, but I completely doubt it. The one girl looks just about my age, maybe younger, and she looks very underfed and scrawny. There's no way such a petite girl would be able to even commit such a heinous crime.

The orphanage even put up wanted posters and left flyers in every shop in Burbank. They sided with the police and recruited their own little law enforcement agency to track down these "well exercised master minds". I'm always seeing men in uniforms patrolling the streets on a regular base. What did they call those girls again? Something or other with numbers, I hadn't really memorized them.

Yeah, no wonder they wanted out.

Well as sad as it may be, I'm afraid I've got my own issues. I'm having a hard time reading the young squirrel's messy scribbles. I started trailing my finger down the page once again, muttering loudly to myself.

"So if I walk straight here, turn left, walk straight again and then take a final turn to the right I should be exactly where I want to be . . ."

I looked up, hoping for a little success but instead found that the map has deceived my once again. I was centered right in the middle of an alley way.

Another moan escaped my lips as I buried my head in the center of the map. After muttering a few curse words here and there I pulled my face away from the paper, again trying to figure out where I went wrong.

Failing to see where I made the wrong turn, I decided on going back to where I last was. But when I turned around I felt something crashing into me, the impact causing me to stumble backwards. Luckily I was able to grab ahold of a nearby dumpster and steady myself before tumbling to the ground. I heard a loud thud of a body falling to the ground followed by several other, smaller thuds.

I rubbed the side of my head, trying to ease the throbbing pain. I looked up to see who the jerk was that crashed into me, but what I saw made me let loose a small gasp as my eyes widened in shock.

It was one of the orphan girls . . .

Our eyes locked and I saw the devastation and fear overflowing from her eyes as they planted on me, refusing to look away.

The poor girl looked horrible. She was in a frantic state, with her hair was oily and frizzled and even had bit of an odor to it. The clothes she wore were obviously a size too small and was full of tiny holes, clearly never washed either. Her supposedly white face and feet were stained with dirt, making them a different shade of grey.

I took a small step forward, trying to get a better look at this neglected child, but that caused her to jolt backwards, covering her face with her hands as she cowered.

Grasping the fact that this girl was more than likely scared out of her wits by any of my actions I decided that it would be best to keep my distance. I felt uncomfortable under her gaze. She was watching me like a hawk, her eyes burning a hole in my skull. Every time I made a small movement, even the tiniest of gestures, she would react by flinching, like she thought I was planning something.

But where did she come from?

At the corner of my eye I noticed a messy pile of apples scattered across the dirty floor along with a thin plastic bag, torn in the impact. I looked back at her, trying to work something out. Her chest was rising fast and small, wheezing could be heard coming from her throat. It's obvious she was running . . .

. . . but from what?

My ears rose slightly when I heard someone raucously making their way down the street. I stepped back to take a look who it was exactly. There were two men dressed in dark navy, matching uniforms. It almost looked like one of those guys from the orphanage's law enforcement . . .

"Hey, kid! Did you see a girl with a bag of apples run past here?"

That's it! She must have stolen the apples and now the police were after her. Wow, took me a while.

I was about to open my mouth, thinking I was about to do the right thing by busting her but our eyes met once again and I started reconsidering whether what I was about to do would really be the right thing to do. She looked at me with distress on the brink of her glassy eyes and I saw her body starting to shake, from fear nonetheless. She was clutching the left side of her stomach, gritting her teeth in an obvious sign of pain.

She desperately shook her head with her lips forming a silent 'no'. I felt a blanket of sympathy falling over me and wondered if giving her away really was the right thing to do. I then remembered that she had a little kid who she was taking care of on her own, so handing her in would really be considered an asshole move.

I looked at her one last time before making up my mind.

I ran out of the alley, stopping the cops in their tracks.

"Wait! I know where this girl is!"

"Well then, son, what are you waiting for? Speak up!"

I looked back at the alley before continuing "I saw her take a left right down the street over there! Maybe if you go back you'd be able to catch her." I said confidently with my hands in my pockets.

Both cops peered over their shoulders before looking back at me. The one weasel like cop raised a brow and eyed me carefully. I just stared back at him pleasantly with a small grin smeared across my face.

"Alright then, thanks kid." He nudged his partner in the side and they turned away, running in the opposite direction.

I felt my muscles loosening and a deep sigh made its way out of my throat. My ears quirked up as I remembered the poor girl still lying in the alley, probably more tensed than I am.

I ran back to the alley where I did indeed find the girl still lying there, though except of fear her face was covered in disbelief. She eyed me cautiously once more, but seemed a bit more relaxed. Her heavy breathing stopped and she wasn't clutching her side anymore.

I wanted to say something to her, but I didn't know what. I noticed that her stolen apples were still spread across the floor. I looked at the apples and then back at her. Her ears fell flat on to her unwashed hair and she lowered her head, obviously embarrassed about what she had done.

Another feeling of guilt and sympathy fell upon me as I smiled back at her.

I kneeled down and started picking the pile of bruised apples up, making sure to wipe each one with my shirt, cleaning off any grime or dirt. I felt her eyes staring at me and it made me feel somewhat uneasy, but I just brushed it off much like the apples. I placed all of her goods into the plastic bag and held it out towards her. "Here you go, you dropped this."

She refused to take it, just glancing at the bag and then back to me as her disbelief grew.

When coming to the conclusion that she wasn't going to take the plastic bag from me, I just shrugged my shoulders saying, "Suit yourself," and placed the bag of apples gingerly in front of her before giving her one final smile and walking away, leaving her behind with her disbelief and confusion.

I made my way down the sidewalk, taking one last look back only to find the girl stumbling out of the alley, glancing at me before taking off in the other direction.

I stared off in the distance before turning and making my way back home.

Perhaps today wasn't the best day for shoe shopping?

* * *

hey guys, I would just like to say wow. I had no idea people would actually like this story, but you proved me wrong with all the favorite and following and not to forget the 7 reviews (The one was a negative one. Meh, what you gonna do? Can't please everybody you know.) It really boost my confidence and I'm really sorry you had to wait this long fro the next chapter. But ti's finally here, a bit shorter than I wanted it to be, but at least it's not too short.

Anyway, I hope you like it and don't be afraid to give me your opinion. Pointing out what you liked and what you didn't like. I would love to hear it and improve where ever I can.

Enjoy!


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